


In Sickness & In Health

by doodlegirll



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Copious amounts of chicken noodle soup, Fluff, Illnesses, M/M, Marcus is a pain in the ass when he's sick, Mild Language, Sickfic, but Jake loves him anyway, more so than usual, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlegirll/pseuds/doodlegirll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even angels get sick. Luckily Marcus has Jake to help take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness & In Health

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeNami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeNami/gifts).



> I've been wanting to write a Marcus/Jake fic for a LONG ASS TIME now, since we first heard the Debate back in May and everyone came to the unanimous decision to ship these two idiots. So finally I forced myself to sit down and write one, and this was the result! Granted, the idea came to me while I, myself, was sick as dog with a terrible cold, so...yeah. 
> 
> Please note that I have used [Nami's](http://zenamiarts.tumblr.com/) headcanons for this fic, with permission. :) They're my favorite depictions, and their art is PHENOMENAL. Please stop by and give them the love they so deserve! Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you for letting me use your headcanons! This story is absolutely dedicated to you! 
> 
> Story music: Listen to the album "Chronicle" by Lights & Motion, in particular "The Spectacular Quiet" and "Particle Storm" while reading this. You won't regret it!!!

**In Sickness & In Health**

A Marcus/Jake fanfiction  
By doodlegirll

...oOo...

 

Sometimes it was just too quiet in the Vansten mansion.

Jake pondered this as he slouched against the pink marble counter top in the kitchen as he scrolled lazily through his emails on his phone. There had been a notification of twenty six unread messages waiting for him when he woke up that morning, and he hadn’t even begun to put a dent into answering them as he sat the phone down on the counter to pour himself a bowl of Rice Crispies, foregoing the sugar as he leant on his elbows, opening the Juice Cubes app on his phone and flicking through it as he ate his breakfast. He’d been stuck on this level for a week now, and he was determined that this would be the morning he’d defeat those stupid little fruit cubes, so help him.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans, and Jake very quickly reached his five chance limit, and was thusly forced to wait until his hearts were replenished before he could continue on his conquest. Sighing, he rinsed his bowl in the sink, setting it aside to dry on one of the monogramed silk dishtowels that he grabbed from where it hung on the faucet. He filled the tea kettle with hot water from the sink, and set it on the stovetop, and grabbed his favorite mug from the cabinet above his head.

Just as he was pouring the hot water over the tea bag, and he was opening the fifth flagged email in his inbox, there was the sound of a thunderclap, followed by the soft sound of chimes, and a bright, white light radiated out from behind him. Jake smiled as he sat his phone down on the counter next to him, and began to dip the bag of tea into the water to steep, content to wait until the light died down.

After a moment, the light behind him faded, and the chiming stilled, and all that was left was the sound of bare feet padding on hardwood floors as they neared Jake, who could not contain the smiled that was still growing across his face. Still, he tried to stifle the excitement he could feel bubbling in his chest, forcing it down with a casual, businesslike smile.

“I was wondering when you’d get home,” he greeted the figure he felt come up behind him, knowing full and well who it was. 

Strong, nut brown arms wound around Jake’s middle, and he felt a forehead drop against his shoulder, as beautiful gold wings wrapped around them both like curtains. Jake felt a shiver of awe run down his spine; those wings had always made him as safe and warm as their owner’s arms did, and when both of them were wrapped around Jake as they were just then, Jake was certain it was as close to a taste of heaven as he’d ever come.

“Hey,” Marcus greeted him, not raising his head from Jake’s shoulder. He sounded tired, as he usually did this early in the morning, but there was a strain of pure exhaustion in his tone, and Jake wondered what Great Calling he had been fulfilling before finally being able to break away long enough to come home.

“You have impeccable timing as always, sir,” Jake said, allowing the business foray to dominate the moment. He took the tea bag out of the mug and sat it on a napkin. “You have a meeting today.”

“Can it wait?” Marcus grumbled from where he still refused to move his face in Jake’s shoulder. “I don’t feel so great.”

"Afraid not." Jake said, brushing back some of Marcus's feathers to retrieve the half hidden spoon he was using to stir in his honey. "This is the third time you've had to reschedule. This is about the investments you were interested in making about the bloodstone mines outside of town. The City Council always sends one of their faceless, genderless spokesbeings, and xey have a tendency to screech when you're late, and you’ve cancelled the last three appointments they’ve had. They're not going to reschedule again."

Marcus groaned, and turned his head, pressing his cheek against Jake’s neck. Jake frowned, and sat down the honey spoon on the counter. He turned in Marcus’s grip, and finally faced the angel.

Marcus looked about as great as he said he felt. His nut brown skin was flushed, with sweat beginning to form at the hairline of his – usually so well kept - disheveled black hair. His emerald green eyes were glassy, and there were bags under them the size of silver dollars, and his golden wings were dull and drooping. Jake frowned and reached out to press the flat of his palm to Marcus’s forehead; Marcus flinched as his cool skin brushed flesh so hot it reminded Jake greatly of a blistering sunburn.

“Marcus, you’re burning up!” Jake said, removing his hand and letting it cup Marcus’s face instead.

“I told you I wasn’t feeling great.” Marcus said, closing his eyes and leaning into Jake’s touch. “If you’d actually listen to me for once.”

Jake smirked and let his hand fall. He turned and fished through the junk drawer next to the sink, finally producing a digital thermometer.

“Open.” He instructed, and Marcus obeyed. Jake stuck the thermometer under the angel’s tongue. “Hold that under your tongue until it beeps.”

Marcus nodded and leaned against the counter, laying his forehead against his forearms. Jake busied himself getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with cold water from the fridge. The thermometer beeped, and Jake took it from Marcus before pressing the water into his hand.

"Drink that." He said. He squinted at the thermometer. "101.7. Yep, you're officially sick."

"I could have told you that." Marcus grumbled, nonetheless doing as he was told and drinking the water, downing it in just a few gulps. He sat it in the sink and went back to leaning against the counter.

Jake shook his head. “You’ve probably got the flu. It’s been going around. Mr. Palmer was saying on the radio the other day that his scientist has been down for the count with it for a few days.”

Marcus groaned, and turned his head to glare at Jake.

“Uh, angel, remember?” He said, flexing one of his wings as if to prove a point. “I don’t get sick with the flu. Angels don’t get sick.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Marcus, you’re still at least part human. You were human your entire life up until that debate. So it’s probably not that impossible for you to still contract human illnesses.”

“Not buying it.” Marcus growled softly, turning his head back into his forearms. “I mean, c’mon, we’re fucking _immortal._ That’s gotta come with superior immune systems at least. I’m not sick. Just…under the weather a bit.”

Jake shook his head. “Either way, let’s get you into some sweatpants and into bed.” (Marcus was, as he often was, nude.)

“Can’t.” Marcus argued, pushing himself up and away from the counter, with what appeared to be no small amount of difficulty. “Great Purpose to fulfill, remember? I just stopped by to say hi.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Jake reached out and grabbed Marcus’s arm. Despite being nearly a foot shorter, and much leaner than the more toned physique of the angel, he began to drag him in the other direction, and Marcus, obviously much too sick to put up too much resistance, begrudgingly allowed him to lead him towards his bedroom. Jake released him as soon as they were inside, and marched straight to the closet, where he found a pair of sweatpants, underwear, and an old t-shirt, which he threw at Marcus on the bed.

“Put those on.”

“Bossy.” Marcus muttered, nonetheless slipping into the underwear and sweatpants before he shimmied his way into the t-shirt. Jake still wasn’t entirely sure how Marcus’s clothes never seemed to require any special tailoring to accommodate his large wings, but he wasn’t about to argue with logic. Not here in Night Vale, anyway. He’d just chalk it up to angelic powers and call it a day.

Marcus glared at his PA once he was done, spreading out his arms. “There, you happy?”

Jake smiled slightly. “Getting there.” He said. He crossed the room to stand in front of Marcus, who let his forehead fall against Jake’s abdomen as he wrapped his arms around his middle, once again bringing his wings around the two of them, just as he had in the kitchen. Jake smiled as he brought up his hands to gently message at the back of the billionaire’s warm neck, lightly scrapped his nails along Marcus’s scalp in the way he knew was calming. Marcus hummed in pleasure, and Jake felt him relax beneath his touch, and he sagged heavily on the PA.

“I _really_ don’t feel good, Jake.” He said miserably.

“I know.” Jake said sympathetically.

Marcus raised his head and looked up at Jake, propping his chin on Jake’s stomach.

“Will you make me some noodle soup?” He asked.

Jake raised an eyebrow, and he let his hands fall from the back of Marcus’s neck.

“Soup?” He asked.

Marcus nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a bought of coughing. Jake quickly retrieved a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner and handed it to the angel, who downed it in a few gulps, still coughing lightly when he was done. He crushed the bottle in his hand and tossed it at the trash can in the corner, and as usual, missed. Jake bent to pick up the bottle and properly deposit it.

Marcus fell back onto the silk sheets of the bed, moaning piteously as he did so. He brought a hand to his forehead, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Now, how about that soup?” He asked hoarsely after a moment, opening his eyes and looking at Jake. “Please?”

“Maybe in a minute.” Jake said as he took hold of the sheets and carefully laid them against his boyfriend’s body, minding his wings. “If you recall, I’m still working, so I have to call and cancel your meeting with City Council – again – and then make sure the proper bloodstone rituals are taken care of to avoid another fee like the time you had me fax them an autograph instead of a notice of cancellation.”

Marcus shuddered, clearly remembering the pint of blood he had owed. He coughed again and looked up at Jake, nearly pouting.

“And _then_ you’ll make me some soup?”

Jake rolled his eyes before he bent as though to kiss the other man. Marcus quickly intercepted, however, using one of his wings to block Jake’s advancement, placing it between the two of them.

“Whoa, hey, wait a sec,” he said, peeking through two golden feathers as though they were blinds. “What if I get you sick?! Then who will take care of my appointments and polish the coffee table every day? I need that coffee table…”

"Don't worry, I won't get sick." Jake assured him, brushing Marcus’s wing aside to lean over and smooth Marcus’s black hair from his forehead.

"How do you know?" Marcus demanded, trying to look annoyed, but pressing into Jake’s touch like a cat that had been starved of attention all day.

"Because unlike you, Mr. Angel with the 'superior immune system,'" Jake poked at Marcus's side, and Marcus swatted his hand away.  "I got my flu shot."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Marcus said sullenly, letting his wing fall back against the bed. "I get it. I should have listened to you and gotten vaccinated. Now would you _please_ go make me some noodle soup before I cough up a lung and die?"

"I thought you said you were immortal." Jake cocked an eyebrow and cross his arms.

"I swear to God I'm going to fire you." Marcus moaned as he threw his head back against the pillow. "I'm going to die and then come back and haunt your ass for the rest of eternity."

Jake smirked. "We'll see." He kissed Marcus's forehead. "I may not take as well to a ghost boyfriend as I did an angelic one."

“You are _so_ fired.” Marcus said, glaring at his PA. He rubbed his temples. “ _So. Fired._ Not even kidding.” 

“Hmm, well, then I suppose you’ll have to start cancelling your own meetings.” Jake said bemusedly.  

Marcus groaned. " _Please_ , Jake, soup." He whined.

Jake chuckled and leant over to kiss Marcus's forehead. "Alright, fine." He consented. "Stay here and wallow in your own self-pity, and I'll make you some soup."

"If you think I'm even going to consider moving, you're wrong." Marcus mumbled. He flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. Jake reached out and rubbed a hand soothingly between his wings for a moment before he eased himself off of the edge of the bed and made his way towards the door.

As he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen, he ducked into his own bedroom – which was, admittedly, underused; Jake usually spent his time in Marcus’s bed – and changed out of his jeans and button down back into his flannel pajama bottoms and the faded Harvard t-shirt he had stolen from Marcus.

Being Marcus’s PA was a full-time job, one hundred percent of the time. It was stressful, overwhelming, and sometimes, Jake wondered why he put up with half the shit Marcus Vansten put him through for no reason at all other than to be a royal pain in Jake’s ass (that coffee table, for example), but Jake had never had second thoughts about anything regarding his job. He took pride in his job, and an extension of that pride was his professional attire, even on the days when Marcus was off fulfilling his angelic duties, or refused to put on pants.

But being Marcus’s boyfriend was a different kind of full-time job, and if he was going to have to be the one to take care of the whiny, sick angel, he wanted to at least be comfortable. So flannel pants it was.

 

\-----

 

Forty five minutes later, Jake slowly made his way back towards Marcus’s bedroom, a bowl of steaming homemade chicken noodle soup balanced expertly on his left forearm, a glass of orange juice in his left hand, and his phone in his right hand as he sent a mass email cancelling all of the day’s events, including the one with the City Council, which was responded to immediately with vernaculars that made Jake’s brain hurt if he looked at it for even just a second; he made sure to promise to complete the necessary bloodstone ritual by the end of the night to avoid the blood fee. He nudged the polished cherrywood doors open with his shoulder, and entered the room, dropping his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants as he did so.

He walked towards the bed, where Marcus had, true to his word, not moved an inch from where he had been when Jake left. Jake sat the bowl of soup and orange juice on the bedside table, and gingerly eased himself onto the side of the bed. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over Marcus’s left wing feathers, and the powerful muscle rippled happily at his touch. Marcus moaned as he turned his head to look at Jake, opening only one green eye.

“Soup?” He asked hopefully, his voice hoarse from coughing and sleep. Jake nodded, and reached out to press the back of his hand against Marcus’s forehead. The angel was still burning with fever.

“We need to get that fever down.” He informed Marcus as he dropped his hand and went to pick up the bowl of soup from the table. “And keep you hydrated.”

Marcus didn’t say anything, just reburied his face in the down pillow with a groan before he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. He sat back against the ornate mahogany headboard, and put a pillow across his lap for the bowl of soup that Jake passed him.

“Sorry it took me so long.” Jake apologized, pulling a spoon and napkin from his pocket and handing them to Marcus. “But I wasn’t expecting you to be home, so I gave Martha the day off, so I had to make it myself.”

Marcus hummed, and stirred the broth with the spoon for a moment before he brought a spoonful to his mouth, blowing on it for a second before he sipped at it cautiously.

“It’s great, Jake, thanks.” Marcus said as he ate another spoonful.

“Old family recipe.” Jake said, crawling to sit cross legged next to his lover on the empty side of the bed. He grabbed the book he’d been slowly making his way through from the bedside table.

“I can’t really taste it,” Marcus admitted. “But it’s helping.”

Jake smiled slightly, and ran a fingertip over the curve of a feather that fluttered near his elbow.

The two sat there in silence for several minutes, while Marcus slowly slurped away at his soup while Jake opened his book and began to read. Finally, Marcus finished, and sat the bowl back on his own bedside table. He coughed harshly, and Jake looked at him worriedly until he stopped, and Marcus groaned as he rubbed his chest.

“God, that hurts.” He said miserably. He sniffed and looked at Jake. “Is my fever gone yet? I still have shit to do.”

Jake reached out and felt the angel’s forehead again. Still warm.

“Nope, still running a fever.” He said. “Feels like it’s a bit better, but not by much. You need to see if you can sleep it off.”

“Ugh, _fine._ ” Marcus huffed. “Stay with me?” He asked, looking hopefully at Jake, who couldn’t help but smile as he nodded.

He put his bookmark in his book, and sat it on the table, and put his phone – silenced, but still set to vibrate, of course – on top of it. He stretched out along the bed, and Marcus cuddled up behind him, wrapping his arms around him as he curled around the PA, their legs twining. Marcus’s wing, the one not pinned down by their bodies, came to rest over both of them like a makeshift blanket, warm and soft and so comforting, Jake felt as though nothing in the world could compare. He sighed contentedly as he nestled against his boyfriend’s broad chest.

“I miss being the little spoon.” Marcus grumbled as he nosed at Jake’s hair.

Jake chuckled. "Well, every time I try, I always end up with a mouthful of feathers. Besides, they're ticklish and you've already clocked me in the jaw more than once with then when I was breathing on them."

“Sorry. They have minds of their own.” Marcus said, and coughed, turning his head away from Jake’s head. He groaned again as he dropped his face against the back of Jake’s neck.

“Sleep.” Jake instructed. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“’Kay.” Marcus consented sleepily, holding Jake just a bit tighter. He was asleep within moments, and Jake smiled as he began to snore quietly.

“Love you.” He whispered, stroking Marcus’s wing until he, too, fell asleep.

 

\-----

 

When Jake awoke several hours later, it was to an empty bed and the sound of retching coming from the bathroom off to the side of the bedroom, the door of which was halfway closed, light streaming across the floor.

Jake pushed himself up onto his elbow, rubbing his eyes.

“Marcus?” He called. “Are you okay?”

There was yet another sound of heaving, and a loud, high pitched moan. Jake quickly threw his legs over the side of the bed and was at the door in a matter of seconds, yanking the door open as he did so. He was on his knees next to Marcus, who was kneeling on the floor, his forehead resting against his arm resting on rim of the toilet almost immediately. The entire room reeked of vomit and sweat, and it was enough to make Jake choke down a gag as he reached out to rub Marcus between his wings.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He soothed as Marcus moaned again. “You’re alright.”

“This _sucks_!” Marcus complained, knocking his forehead against his arm. “ _Dammit_ , why didn’t I listen when you said I should—"

He was cut off as another wave of sickness took him, and he dry heaved into the toilet. After a few minutes, he coughed and his hand fumbled for the handle of the toilet. He pulled away and flushed away the evidence of his illness, and curled in on himself on the floor of the bathroom, his wings wrapped so tightly around him they closely resembled a cocoon.

“One second,” Jake said, and stood to wet one of the washcloths by the sink with cold water. He wrung it out before he knelt back down on the floor next to Marcus. Marcus laid his head in Jake’s lap, and Jake pressed the cool rag to the back of Marcus’s neck, running his fingers through the angel’s damp black hair. Marcus coughed again, and swore softly in Arabic.

“Try to stay still.” Jake said, still stroking Marcus’s hair. “Let the nausea pass before you try to move again.”

“I _hate_ this, Jake.” Marcus said, looking up at Jake. “This shit fucking sucks.”

“Being sick isn’t pleasant.” Jake agreed. “That’s why most people get the proper vaccinations to protect themselves from these kinds of things.”

“You aren’t going to let that one go, are you?” Marcus asked, once again glaring up at him. Jake smirked and shook his head.

“Not a chance.” He said.

Marcus didn’t reply, just closed his eyes tightly and clenched a handful of Jake’s pajama bottoms in one hand as he curled in on himself even tighter, his eyes squeezed shut as he moaned piteously.

Jake wasn’t sure how long they stayed there on the floor of the bathroom, but he didn’t really care. He continued to offer comfort, trying to help as best he could as he whispered soothing words into the angel’s ear. After a while, Marcus relaxed, and he turned his head to peer up at him.

“Can you run me a bath?” He asked weakly.

Jake nodded, and felt of Marcus’s forehead. He was still burning up.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But you’re still running a fever, so it’ll have to be a cool one to try and get your temperature down.”

“Don’t care.” Marcus said. “Just feel gross.”

“You don’t smell much better.” Jake joked, kissing Marcus’s cheek lightly, and Marcus glared through half open eyes. “Now c’mon, let’s get you undressed.”

“I’d totally make an innuendo outta that if I didn’t feel like shit warmed over,” Marcus tried to flash Jake a crude smile, if feebly. Jake snorted, and shook his head.

“Stop it, you.” He scolded. He helped the stumbling angel to his feet, and turned to turn the knob of the huge bathtub before he helped Marcus peel off the sweaty t-shirt, sweatpants, and underwear from his aching, flu-ridden body before he helped him climb into the tub. Marcus sank into the cool water with a sigh of relief as Jake turned on the jets. He closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the relief the cold water offered his fever ravaged body before he turned his head to look at Jake.

“Join me?”

Jake shook his head. “No offense, but you’re a mess.”

“None taken.” Marcus’s feathers fluffed out as he shook drops of water from his golden wings, like a preening parakeet. “But, uh…that thing you do with my hair…it felt really nice. Could you…?” He trailed off with another bought of harsh coughing.

Jake smiled softly. “Sure.”

He rolled the legs of his flannel pants up past his knees, and sat on the edge of the giant tub, his feet in the cool bubbling water. Marcus settled back against the tub between Jake’s knees.

“Hand me your shampoo.”

Marcus complied, reaching over and plucking his favorite shampoo from the shelf, and Jake shook his head as a bottle of lube fell off behind it into the water. Marcus quickly retrieved it and returned it to the shelf without a word, handing the bottle of shampoo to his PA. Jake squeezed a generous glob of the sandalwood scented gel into the palm of his hand, and lathered it into Marcus’s thick hair. Marcus hummed in pleasure, his wings rippling happily.

“Mmmm,” he sighed, coughing slightly. “That…feels nice, Jake. Relaxing.”

“I bet.” Jake said. He’d done this dozens of times over the course of his employment to the billionaire, and even more so since they’d started dating; Marcus had a thing for having his hair played with.

After a few minutes of gently messaging the suds into Marcus’s scalp, Jake grabbed the gold plated shower nozzle from where it hung on a hook on the wall, and carefully washed the soap out of the strands with an expertise that would put an amateur hairstylist to shame before he handed it to Marcus.

“Think you can handle it from here?” He asked.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I’m sick, not an invalid.” He said.

Jake ignored the comment and pulled his feet from the water. He leant over and kissed Marcus’s wet forehead.

“Don’t forget to wash behind your wings.” He reminded the angel.

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Yes, _mom._ ”  He splashed water at Jake, who dodged it at the last second as he turned and walked out the door, laughing as he did so.

He grabbed another pair of sweatpants and a new t-shirt for Marcus, as well as a pair of his maroon silk boxers. He also grabbed the half empty water bottle sitting on the bedside table, and walked back into the bathroom, where Marcus was toweling off his hair, his feathers puffed out, making him look more like a fluffy chicken than an angel. Jake bit back a laugh as he laid the clothes on the vanity.

“Here are some clothes for you.” He said as he gathered the discarded ones from the floor and dropped them into the hamper in the corner. “And a bottle of water. You still need to stay hydrated.”

Marcus forwent the clothes – as usual – for the time being, and grabbed the bottle of water, sipping at it until it was gone. He coughed slightly as he threw the bottle in the trashcan.

“You’re still running a fever.” Jake said. “So put your clothes back on and lay back down.”

“Awww,” Marcus whined. “Do I _have_ to put my clothes back on?”

“Yes.” Jake crossed his arms and glared at his boyfriend.

“What, don’t you like the view?” Marcus waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Jake huffed. “Marcus, you’re sick. Not a chance.”

“Worth a try.” Marcus said, and was met, once again, with another harsh coughing fit.

Jake shook his head, and reached out to lay a hand on Marcus’s arm.

“Come on, get dressed.” He prompted gently. “And I’ll reheat you some of that leftover soup.”

 

\-----

 

Marcus continued to run a fever throughout the night, and as time stretched on, Jake found himself growing more and more worried. Jake had made sure to give Marcus some ibuprofen in hopes of reducing his fever, and had made sure he ate as much of the soup he reheated for him as he could. And while the ibuprofen did, indeed, help to lower Marcus’s fever, it didn’t rid him of it completely.

Marcus’s body was wracked with aches and pains, and he had ended up tossing and turning for most of the night, even with the cool washcloths Jake laid across his forehead, but he was, at the very least, able to keep down the soup, and all the water Jake had been methodically pumping into him every chance he got, for which Jake was grateful. At least he had his stomach.

Marcus also had nightmares. Jake had had the flu in his life long enough to know that the fever had the tendency to cause some fairly interesting dreams, and some equally horrific nightmares. Jake, after having finally been able to nod off, was awakened late that night to a loud and desperate moaning. Marcus was thrashing about on the bed where he lay on his stomach, his hands fisted into the satin sheets as his wings flared outwards, as though he were about to take flight, and Jake barely avoided getting hit in the head with the right one as he pushed himself onto his knees and knelt next to Marcus’s side.

“Marcus!” He said, reaching out and shaking Marcus’s shoulder.

The angel was drenched with sweat, his nut brown skin glistening with as it ran in rivulets down his face and neck into the soaked cotton of his t-shirt and the sheets of the bed. He was talking, saying something in rapid, broken Arabic that Jake didn’t understand, and his fists twisted further into the sheets as a strangled whimper escaped lips that parted in a gasp.

“Marcus, shhh, it’s alright.” Jake shook his shoulder again. “You’re just dreaming.”

Marcus shook his head, almost as though he could hear him, and whimpered again, but this time it bordered on a high, painful whine, and Jake wondered just what Marcus had witnessed in his calling to fulfill a Great Purpose that could cause such powerful nightmares to haunt him, but he supposed he could only being to imagine.

Jake quickly jumped from the bed and hurried into the bathroom, where he dampened another washcloth in cold water. He pressed the cloth to the back of Marcus’s neck, and sank his fingers in the angel’s wet hair, just as he knew he liked, and gently massaged his scalp. It seemed to work, because Marcus’s breathing seemed to slow and even out, and his facial features gradually softened. His wings drooped, finally tucking into their resting positions across his shoulders, and Jake stroked the right wing with his free hand as the other remained buried in Marcus’s hair.

Finally, blissfully, Marcus was calm, and Jake knew it was safe when he resumed snoring. He pressed his hand against Marcus’s forehead, and sighed with relief when he found the sticky skin cool for the first time since his arrival home. The fever had finally broken.

Satisfied that Marcus was going to be alright, Jake pecked him on the cheek before he hoisted himself out of the bed and made his way back into the bathroom, where he ran hot water into the tub and turned on the jets. He knew he wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep tonight, so, he figured, a warm bath couldn’t hurt.

 

\-----

 

For the next two days, Marcus did little more than sleep. The fever had finally broken, but he still felt weak and exhausted, and so spent most of his time in bed, his wings curled around him warmly, and his face buried in a pillow as he slept off the residual aches and pains the flu had left behind.

Jake had taken to trying to get some work done in the meantime. He had had three back-to-back conference calls with prospective investors, had answered at least a third of the 163 unread emails that were clogging his inbox, and had called the radio station to inform Mr. Palmer that Marcus would not be able to make the interview that they’d had scheduled for over three months (Cecil had understood, and had advised that a little peppermint oil in a humidifier had helped Carlos breathe a little easier throughout the night). He’d made a run to Old Woman Josie’s to see if there was anything she had on hand that could help his angelic employer/boyfriend get back on his feet a bit faster, and she had shoved an entire canister of loose tea leaves that smelled strongly of spearmint, licorice, garlic, and yarrow into his hands, instructing him to brew it for ten minutes and add a drop or two of tequila before giving it to Marcus.

“You tell Erika that if he drinks this, he’ll be good as new.” She said. “And you make sure you give him a good scolding for not getting his vaccination! Just because he’s an angel now doesn’t mean he can’t get sick!”

Jake had chuckled. “I will, thank you, ma’am.”

When Jake returned home, he found Marcus puttering around the kitchen, clad in one of his monogramed silk bathrobes, nuking a bowl of leftover chicken noodle soup in the microwave as he sipped at a glass of orange juice. Jake grinned as he sat the canister of Old Woman Josie’s tea on the counter, and Marcus gave him a smile in return. He sat the orange juice aside and opened his arms, and Jake eagerly stepped into them, and Marcus folded his wings – now bright and healthy looking again, the golden feathers shiny in luster – around them both as he buried his face in Jake’s hair.

“Hey, champ,” he whispered, his voice still slightly husky with sleep.

“Feeling better?” Jake asked against Marcus’s shoulder.

“Much, thanks to you.” Marcus replied against Jake’s neck, where he was pressing light kisses that made Jake’s entire body feel warm and light. “Like, seriously, thanks, Jake. For taking care of me. I know I can be a royal pain in the ass most of the time, but…thanks. For everything.”

They pulled apart, and Jake pressed his hand to Marcus’s forehead.

“No fever.” He said. “That’s forty eight hours you’ve gone without one, so I think it’s safe to say you’re over that hump, at least.”

“Still not one hundred,” Marcus said. “But close.”

Jake grinned, and stood on his toes to press a kiss to the corner of Marcus’s mouth.

“Love you.” He said.

Marcus pulled him close, and kissed him urgently, but gently, and Jake felt sparks run down his spine like a lightning strike, but he responded with fervor, wrapping his arms around Marcus’s neck.

After a few precious moments, they pulled apart, and the microwave beeped to signal the completion of Marcus’s soup. He let go of the PA to turn and pulled it out, setting it on the counter to cool, breathing in the steaming aroma and sighing with pleasure.

“Hey, Jake, do me a favor and schedule an appointment with Teddy Williams. I need to get a physical and make sure I’m up to date with all my vaccinations.” He winked at Jake. “There is no way in hell I am getting sick again. No fucking way in hell.”

Jake cocked an eyebrow.

"I thought I was fired?" He said playfully, crossing his arms.

"What, with soup making skills like yours?" Marcus grinned, wrapping an arm around Jake’s waist, bringing him closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Never."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find out more about Marcus and Jake at their RP blogs! 
> 
> Jake Lin (portrayed by [themonsterghosts](http://themonsterghosts.tumblr.com/)) can be found [here](http://mrvanstensbitch.tumblr.com/), and Marcus (portrayed by [zenami](http://zenami.tumblr.com/)) can be found [here](http://marcusgoddamnvansten.tumblr.com/%22). 
> 
> DEFINITELY check these blogs out! They are worth it. :)


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